Phoenix
by Mimozka
Summary: After the defeat of Ra's al Ghul, Nyssa takes her rightful place as head of the League only to discover an awful plot of her father's. A plot involving At'taer Al'asfar. At'taer Al'asfar who was no longer herself. But Nyssa is determined that she'll bring her back, so she seeks the help of the one person who can help Sara rise like a Phoenix from the ashes.


**A/N: All dialog in means that Nyssa is speaking in Arabic instead of english (I didn't want to risk using Google translate and I don't know enough Arabic to transcript the words, so just pretend it's Arabic in your heads, please).**

**Dedicated to janeesc2009 - a dear friend. reganos - for all the wonderful ideas she's given me. smoakinamell - who's been excited about this for a while now.**

* * *

She did not believe her eyes when she first saw it.

Ra's had been defeated. The Demon's Head was no more. The League had a new leader now – and that was her. Not her father. Not that richboy billionaire who thought karma would never bite him in the ass – Bruce Wayne and most definitely not Oliver Queen.

Her first course of action was to scour their base for any surprises her father might have left them. Lowly League members were dispatched to search the premises.

Not one of them seemed to find anything of substance. Whatever they did find was either mostly harmless or nothing substantial to pose a threat. They hadn't found any secret devices that no one has heard of before. But Nyssa knew her father well enough. This was too easy. Too clean. There had to be something.

And there was.

One of their newer recruits came running into the hall, her body trembling like a leaf, her face pale. She had to repeat her words three times before they were loud enough for Nyssa to hear her.

Nyssa gave no indication that the recruit's words and her state affected her in any way. But on the inside, she was wary. Their members were taught not to tremble even in the gravest of dangers. To always face their fear head on and a weapon at the ready.

Yet that recruit looked as if she'd seen her worst nightmare… or a ghost.

But not even in her wildest dreams did she expect to see the sight that greeted her.

They were at the dungeons, in a block of cells usually used for those sentenced to complete isolation. The only guards in there are only allowed there to bring the prisoners their daily food rations and that's it.

Yet in the very last cell was none other than her. Sara. Sara Lance. Attaer Alasfar. Her Beloved.

Only it wasn't her.

Her complexion was too pale; her face too gaunt; her figure too skinny, she was wearing standard league robe which hung loosely on her sides; her posture weak; her hair was too thin and was matted to the sides of her face; her eyes were lacking that spark that made her, her. They had another spark in them. One Nyssa knew well. One she'd seen too many times in her father. A blank gaze with a hint of madness.

Then Sara screamed.

Nyssa screamed with her, falling to her knees.

Pain. Fury. Disbelief. Horror. Hope – were all stirring up a storm inside Nyssa. She did not know which to address first.

Sara went silent.

Nyssa remained on the floor unmoving. She only shook her head when she felt her guards step forward to help her up.

For several moments they were surrounded by the eerie silence of the place. Nyssa could feel Sara's gaze on her. She sensed her guard was getting antsy. She needed to think of something. Quick.

"You will find anyone and everyone who had either knowledge or a hand in this plot." Her voice was quiet, barely over a whisper, but the steel in it was impossible to miss.

This was not a request. It was a command.

"Those who fail to come before me will face my wrath." She concluded.

The guard dispersed behind her.

"I will find out who did this to you, Beloved. Then I will help you find yourself again and at long last we will have justice." Nyssa vowed, looking up to meet Sara's blank gaze.

She stood up then, still a little shaky on her feet.

"Upon my love for you, I promise, you will be avenged." With that she turned on her heel and walked down the corridor, only stopping for the briefest of moments to get one last look of Sara before she rounded the corner.

As soon as she was back to the main level, Nyssa summoned two of her most trusted guards, whom she knew would die a thousand deaths before they betrayed her. She told them to take food and water, medicine and to go down to the isolation cells and care for Sara until Nyssa was free to attend to her herself.

After that was done with, she went back to her chamber and put on her ceremonial robes. (She sure as hell was not going to use Ra's' after what she just found out.) Then, she headed for the main hall with her game face on.

This was a witch hunt and Nyssa was the entire Inquisition rolled into one.

She found the main hall was already filled with League members. Good. That means the news had spread - Attaer Alasfar had cheated Death once again. It would make her job easier.

" Come forward now and I might spare your life. " Nyssa spoke confidently and loudly, her voice echoing and bouncing off the walls of the hall.

No one moved a muscle.

"Remain quiet and you will face the wrath of the Demon." Her voice remained steely and cold as her eyes bounced from one League member to another.

Nyssa was starting to get angry.

She knew exactly what this demonstration was. They were testing her. Testing her proficiency and effectiveness as a leader. Normally, she would indulge them, but not when Sara's life was on the line.

She unsheathed the dagger from her side.

A few people in the crowd shifted uncomfortably.

She waited for them to talk.

Nyssa started circling between them, her steps tracing no particular pattern and her dagger twirling between her fingers.

Nyssa pounced.

She sliced the throat of the first – his blood splattering all over her forearm and on the men standing close to him. A brutal, but swift death. He'd be dead by the time she counted to a hundred.

She stabbed the second one in the chest, between the ribs and then twisted the blade into his lung. His death would be slower. More painful.

The third member, she hit in the stomach. Digging her dagger to the hilt. Three times. His death would be the slowest. His agonized howls only filled her with more determination to see the job done.

Nyssa proceeded to move amongst the people in the room, picking her victims at random and granting each a different death. Yet, as random as they were, she only harmed her father's most loyal followers whom she knew she had no chance of turning in her favor.

She figured ten was a good round number for a break.

"How many of you have to forfeit your life before you tell me what I want to know?" she asked loudly, addressing the entire hall.

"Mercy," A voice cried out at last. The person slowly came to stand before her, the rest of the members clearing back, some in disdain and others in fear for what might follow.

It was a man, Nyssa deducted from the person's build. He looked about her age, too. Two daggers and a… whip? She can work with that.

"Your name?" she demanded coldly.

"Affahad As'ayad" the man said, falling to one knee and bowing his head , to show respect.

That explains the whip. Sort of.

"Come with me," She told him and then marched out of the hall without waiting for him to gather his wits.

"Clean that mess up," she told one of her guards in passing and motioned towards the hall.

He told her everything. Her father's entire dastardly plan or at least as much of it as he knew of it. Nyssa didn't even have to threaten him for the information. At least something good came out of her spectacle in the hall – she was feared now. Good.

She dismissed him, but not before giving him a task – he was to guard Attaer Alasfar with his life, especially while Nyssa was running a very important errand. If anything happened to her, Affahad As'ayad would suffer a fate worse than The Magician.

The threat seemed to have the desired effect because his whole face drained of colour upon hearing her words. Nyssa smiled. He'd take his job seriously, that's for sure.

Nyssa knew no one would dare approach her Beloved while she was here, but she wasn't so sure it would remain the case if she was away. And she had a very important errand to run.

In Starling City.

* * *

She did not bother with luggage or anything really. It wasn't going to be a long visit. No more than 24 hours. She didn't want to be away from Nanda Parbat, not now, when her position as head of the League was so new and somewhat vulnerable. Not when her Beloved was defenseless, all alone, in the lion's den.

Then again, this was Starling City - nothing ever went according to plan. There were always complications. She just hoped that a particular one in green would not cross her way. She would have to get rid of him, and frankly, Nyssa didn't have the time or the energy for a piss off contest with Oliver Queen. She just hoped that his Blonde partner would have enough sense not to tell him of her arrival (assuming, Felicity Smoak, kept tabs on her and knew Nyssa was already in Starling. Given their shaky history with the League, she'd be a fool not to. And from what Nyssa's witnessed and from the stories Sara told her, Nyssa knew that Felicity was not a fool at all.)

She'd gone to his place of work. Dressed as a civilian with only a couple of daggers strategically concealed on her person. She asked for him, only to be told that the Captain was currently on a leave of absence and that she could speak to his replacement instead.

Nyssa left the precinct.

Nothing ever went according to plan in Starling City. She thought it would have been less trouble if Sara had been originated from Gotham.

She arrived at his home in the early afternoon. Nyssa knocked on the brownstone's door once. Twice. Three times. Then came a muffled roar that she concluded was probably a "leave me alone". The hard way it is, then.

She walked around to the small alley at the back of the house and scaled the building until she was perched outside his window. Nyssa checked the latch. It was open. She rolled her eyes, he should really know better for a law enforcement official.

She climbed in.

She found him sprawled on the floor in front of his coffee table, staring at a full bottle of Jack Daniels.

"This doesn't seem like a good idea, Mr. Lance," she said quietly; Sara had told her about her father's problem.

Nyssa barely managed to dodge the projectile Lance threw at her.

By the time she was standing still again, Lance was facing her, on his feet, with a drawn firearm.

"You should know better than to break into a police captain's home." he said flatly.

"You should know better than to keep your windows unlocked." Nyssa countered.

"What do you want?" Lance asked impatiently, lowering his gun.

"We need to talk, Mr. Lance." Nyssa responded calmly. "You should sit down, it's about Sara."

She told him everything. From who orchestrated Sara's death, to al Saher's mind manipulation of Thea Queen. From Nyssa's vow of justice at Sara's grave to her father's heinous plan that she only discovered after his death.

Quentin had reached for his pills halfway through her story. She encouraged him to take them. She already had Sara's blood on her hands, from failing to protect her, she didn't need Lance's as well.

"There is something that you need to see for yourself in order to believe the next part of my story." She said gently. "So I would like to invite you to Nanda Parbat. My jet is waiting for us at a private airport."

Quentin held his hands up "Hold on, there's more?" he asked.

Nyssa smiled sadly at him. "The most important bit is yet to come."

"Why do I need to come with you?" Quentin asked.

"Because this is the type of thing one needs to see in order to believe it." She explained.

Quentin scoffed, "I've seen my fair share of weird in the past few years."

"Nothing like this, I promise you."

* * *

It took her some time, but eventually she convinced him to come with her. As soon as they took off, she advised him to sleep during the flight, because she knew that as soon as they reached Nanda Parbat and Quentin knew the truth, sleep would evade him for a while. So he might as well get a head start.

They landed in Nanda Parbat after the sun had risen in the east. Once they got off the plane, Nyssa directed him to a small, old, army-issue helicopter. Usually, from this point on, Nyssa carried on foot, but she figured that with Quentin's condition and the shock he was about to absorb, it was better not to add a hike in the desert to his workout regime.

On the way there she told him about the Lazarus Pit. She told him the story of Ra's al Ghul. The mythology of the League, that she shortened only to the most important bits. Quentin's expression had changed from skepticism to shock as she spoke. He even laughed at one point. To be fair, Nyssa knew how unbelievable her story sounded. At least, she had a way to prove it.

"Stand down!" She commanded as soon as they entered the perimeter. "He's with me." she motioned towards Quentin.

She raised her hand up and kept it in the air as they walked to the front gate. A sign for the guards to keep still.

She walked straight towards her father's pit, not even stopping to look if Quentin was following her. She knew he was. But she was trying to keep a reasonable pace for his sake.

Nyssa could feel him looking around and gaping at the wall ornaments and torches as they walked through the barely lit halls.

"Is this where Sara lived?" He asked just before they entered the main hall. Nyssa nodded mutely in return.

She glanced briefly at the floor – there was not a droplet of blood in sight. Good. They'd cleaned the place up. She was not feeling up to explaining the League's code to Lance and listening to the moral lecture.

Quentin jumped beside her and Nyssa knew that her guard must have joined them.

"They are here to guard me." She explained to Quentin "They will not do anything unless I'm in danger or I command them to, you have nothing to fear."

"Excuse me, for being uncomfortable in a place full of professional assassins." Quentin snapped at her slightly.

Ah, sarcasm. He was going to be ok, then. That's good.

She opened the door to the pit and led him inside.

"What is this? A Jacuzzi?" Quentin snorted, upon seeing the green-coloured pool.

Nyssa smiled at this. It reminded her of Sara, who had a similar reaction when she first saw the place.

She motioned for one of her guards to come forward.

"Mr. Lance, I'm about to show you that everything I told you is true so pay attention." She told Quentin.

Nyssa approached the guard, pulling her dagger out of its sheath.

"What are you doing?" Quentin asked nervously, taking a step towards her.

Nyssa sighed, she should have known. Damn noble cops. She waved towards her guard again.

"Hold him," she commanded.

"Don't fight them, Mr. Lance." Nyssa told Quentin. "Just watch."

Then she stabbed her guard in the stomach. Once. Twice. Three times. Her blows were swift and precise – like a deadly snake.

Before Quentin could start protesting, Nyssa pushed her victim into the pit.

"You are insane!" Quentin swore at her from the hold of her guards. "Why the hell did you do that?! What the hell does this have to do with Sara?!" he shouted.

Nyssa turned to him, her expression a mix between irritation and amusement.

"Just watch Mr. Lance. It'll all make sense in a little while." She assured him.

"What is there to make sense of?!" Quentin protested. "You stabbed a person and threw them in that – "he motioned towards the pit "whatever it is!"

The water in the pit started bubbling. Steam started coming out of it.

That stopped Quentin in his tracks.

"What the – "he murmured, his voice breaking mid-sentence.

"Keep watching." Nyssa urged him.

A body surfaced from the pit – the same body that Nyssa stabbed a little while ago.

Quentin screamed.

He'd seen the man die in front of his very eyes about fifteen minutes ago. Yet there he was, floating in a pit of green water – or whatever that liquid was.

It took him a moment to remember Nyssa's words from before. Took him another few to connect the dots between what he was told and what he was witnessing.

Somehow, he kept breathing through the whole ordeal.

Nyssa watched carefully as understanding downed on Lance's face. She was ready to act in case it all became too much for him. Ready to deliver him to the pit.

She knew it was time to tell him when he made eye-contact with her.

"Sara is alive." She said. "What you just witnessed has some side-effects on the person who uses it and right now, Sara needs the people who love her most."

"Where is she?" Quentin asked.

* * *

She took him to the holding cells and watch him have a reaction very similar to her own when he laid eyes on his daughter.

She watched him cry and reach out to her through the bars, she listened to his sobs grow stronger at the blank look on her face. But most of all she watched as his body sagged in relief at having his child back and her heart broke for him. She had not been unloved, but her father was not like Sara's. He was never affectionate neither emotionally nor physically. She loved him because he was her father and she was his daughter – and that was a daughter's duty. At least according to the beliefs she was raised in.

Lance stayed with her in Nanda Parbat. Nyssa had called a meeting of the entire League and made it explicitly clear that Lance is a guest of honour and that he is not to be harmed in any way and whoever does to go against his life will suffer a fate worse than Al Saher's. She'd dispatched a message to Felicity Smoak, to tell her where Lance was and asking her to take care of things surrounding Quentin's absence. Sara trusted the woman with her life, Nyssa trusted their bond.

It took them months to make even the slightest of progress. Quentin would sit with her all day long. Nyssa would spend every free moment with her, too. Brushing her hair, feeding her, being affectionate with her, talking to her, sharing memories – doing anything and everything they could to help Sara remember. There were days when they felt like their efforts were futile. There were times where the endless nightmares and episodes Sara had seemed like they would keep going forever.

Only one morning, Sara recognized them. She called Nyssa by her name, she uttered a soft "Daddy," and Nyssa and Quentin shared a hopeful look – maybe everything would be alright after all.

Six months into her recovery the Canary fell and burned down only to have a Phoenix rise up from her ashes.

* * *

**A/N: In case it's unclear in the fic, once Sara comes back to her senses she takes up the name Phoenix (for her penchant to escape death)**


End file.
